


You're Not Done Yet, John

by Estel



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Military, Pre-Canon, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estel/pseuds/Estel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson has gone through many trials in his life. This is an intimate look at his thoughts and feelings on his ongoing troubles, starting in Afghanistan and going through to his friendship with Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not Done Yet, John

In the sweltering heat of Candahar, I served as assistant to surgeon major Tobias Archer. While a fair man, he had served the Army Medical Department far longer than I, which meant that he lacked certain aspects of my training. Upon my arrival in Candahar, he had made it exceptionally clear that I was the equivalent to a spoilt child in his eyes, as my commission, from the beginning, was equal to his when he was first promoted to surgeon major a number of years before.

There was little room for me to have bum feelings about that, however, since we spent the majority of our waking hours managing the wounded brought in from the outskirts of the city. The 5th Northumberland Fusiliers, along with a number of other regiments, were holding the town which had been taken some weeks before my arrival in Afghanistan.

One particularly dusty morning, sometime just before the sun eliminated all want to move at mid-day, I was leading in one of the camels bringing in casualties from the front when a cacophony of battle cries and yells perforated the usually muffled city.

A small unit of Ghazis had infiltrated the city and were making their way into the heart of our base of operations. The first and only inner sector of the British Army that they found was the Army Medical field hospital.

Dumbfounded, I stood gripping the lead of the giant beast which carried two groaning men on its back. The commotion caused a number of others who mulled about in the street to spring up. Just before the first three men rounded the corner on the far side of the street, I drew my sidearm and pulled the camel in hopes that it, like a horse, would simply keep going if given enough momentum in the right direction.

When the first rough-faced Ghazis emerged, each bearing an intricate Jezail rifle, they were met by a slew of gunfire from the recuperating army soldiers who had been in the street. Unfortunately, most of the men only had side arms, as they had yet to be reinstated into their regiments. The sound of fifteen revolvers seemed like pin drops in comparison to the booming sound of three Afghani rifles.

The first struck a soldier beside an open tent flap who was standing with the aid of a crutch. He fell very heavily back, having taken the shot to his chest. The second I heard zip past me and into the hospital. The third, well the third I never heard or saw at all.

The exploding powder thundered through the street, and the smoke plumed from the muzzle of the guns. A white hot sensation rushed from my right knee and burst into my head as I fell under my own weight. The third shot had gone through my right leg, just above the knee.

A reply of revolver fire silenced the small contingent of Ghazis, but I could hardly hear it. I was told I wailed in agony, but I hardly remember anything at all until a soldier emerged from the hospital and looked me in the eyes. He wanted to know if I had passed on from this world. In my silent prayers, for fear that I would soon be Heaven-bound, I begged God for my life.

In my heart I knew his reply. "You're not done yet, John."


End file.
